


More Trouble Than a Fire-Breathing Bear

by aliencupcake



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood, Escape, F/M, Imprisonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:37:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7823437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliencupcake/pseuds/aliencupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliana is a Knight of the Realm, charged with guarding Prince Thaddeus as he pretends to be a commoner in order to gain more knowledge of his country. Their journey takes a bad turn when they're imprisoned, but Eliana is loyal. They'll find a way out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Trouble Than a Fire-Breathing Bear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [labocat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/labocat/gifts).



It wasn’t the most disgusting jail cell Eliana had ever spent time in, but there wasn’t much to recommend it either.

“Do you solve all your problems by stabbing people?”

“It’s efficient.” 

Well, stabbing was efficient when Eliana had a proper sword and didn’t need to worry about protecting a member of the royal family who looked like he might break apart if the wind blew in the wrong direction. She needed to have a word with his parents about their bizarre child-rearing tactics. Keeping Prince Thaddeus more guarded than the Crown Treasury for his entire life before suddenly depositing him into the world was less than sensible, even with a Knight of the Realm such as herself assigned as bodyguard--especially since she was minus her usual weaponry. It wasn’t “authentic” to have too fine a sword. Eliana would do her duty to her country even when it didn’t make sense to her and required her to use sub-par weaponry.

“It’s diplomatically unsound. And _messy_.” Thaddeus made a face, far more offended by stabbing than he should have been. He had to know his wealthy kingdom had been founded by people who did a lot of stabbing.

If someone were to benefit from so much bloodshed, they ought not to be so squeamish about it, in Eliana’s mind. She didn’t say this to Thaddeus, who looked distressed enough as it was, eyes huge and frightened behind silver-framed glasses even in the dim dungeon.

“We’re prisoners, if you haven’t forgotten,” said Eliana.

“Do you really want to add bloodstains to whatever else is on this floor?” Thaddeus lifted a foot, some mysterious substance trailing from the bottom of his boot and falling back to the ground in fat, goopy drips. Eliana had put down her overcoat so Thaddeus wouldn’t have to stand in the dungeon muck, but the fabric made a poor shield.

“It would give the place some color.” Drops of blood weren’t nearly as nauseating as whatever that substance was, and blood smelled better, cleaner.

“You don’t even have your sword.”

“It’s the thought of stabbing that counts.”

Rather than argue, Thaddeus said, “I’ve been thinking how they didn’t separate us. Either Lord Yanbrook’s dungeon is underfunded, or they’re not especially interested in psychologically torturing us yet. They even let me keep my spectacles, when a more thorough dungeon-keeper might have taken them. Spectacles aren’t exactly inexpensive, so you might expect someone smarter to take them for that reason, at the very least.”

“I feel tortured.”

“I’m glad my company is that pleasant to you, but you have done isolation training, have you not? That is torture.”

Eliana hadn’t meant to imply that Thaddeus’s company was so unpleasant. In fairness, for someone who thought silk sheets were a basic necessity, he’d handled being inside a dungeon with surprising grace. Maybe that perfect posture was programmed into royal children from birth, as most people did not look elegant while imprisoned in such a place. Perhaps it was the lack of fresh air getting to her, but Thaddeus looked somehow attractive, even in a cramped cell. It had to be the air pushing her thoughts in such inappropriate directions.

“Isolation training made me want to stab someone. I preferred when we had to fight a magic bear while blindfolded,” she said.

“Is there anything that doesn’t make you want to stab someone? And did you really have to fight a magic bear? That sounds needlessly dangerous.”

Eliana shrugged. She didn’t understand Thaddeus’s apparent concern, but she appreciated it nonetheless. “They’re not as scary as real bears, though they do breathe fire.”

“Fire. Breathing. Bears.”

“Mages are easily bored and constantly intoxicated from exposure to spell ingredients.”

Thaddeus said, “Does the kingdom have no sense?"

"It's your family that makes the rules." Eliana didn’t know of any mage safety regulations, let alone ones the court’s mages would bother to follow.

With a curiously awkward nod, Thaddeus said, “On behalf of the kingdom, I apologize for the fire-breathing bears. And my own ignorance.”

“That bear was hardly the worst thing I’ve faced, but thank you.”

“I think I’d rather not know, or I’ll possibly be apologizing into the next century. We need to get out of here. Yes, I know I’m stating the obvious, but a prince missing for too long leads to mass hysteria, which means these people might eventually become suspicious of my identity and decide my head would make a lovely decoration. I’m not _decorative_.”

Vaguely, Eliana wondered if they should have been using proper forms of address when nobody could hear them, though part of Thaddeus’s journey was supposed to involve being addressed like a commoner of no special rank. That was yet another part of this mission that struck her as rather silly, yet she couldn’t bring herself to so much as call Thaddeus “sir.” She preferred the informality, artificial as it was.

“Your head does look best on your body, but how do you propose to get us out? The magic bindings on this cell are impossible,” said Eliana. 

She had enough magical ability to know there wasn’t a spy spell on the cell and to see just how tightly the lock-spell on their cell had been woven. She did not, however, have any magical abilities that could help them escape. The court mages had bestowed the magic-detecting powers upon her but not had thought it wise to give knight the ability to breathe fire. That, apparently, was reserved for the magical bears.

“Assuming they don’t intend to let us starve to death and haven’t forgotten us, we wait,” said Thaddeus.

“Waiting? That’s your plan?”

“We wait for them to return, and we get them to let us leave, without any unnecessary bloodshed.” Thaddeus turned to look at Eliana, an almost-smile on his face, although it might have been a trick of the low light. “Yes, I know you’re going to ask about necessary bloodshed. I’d rather avoid that, though I won’t prevent you from hurting anyone if it means we don’t die.”

Moments after Thaddeus’s declaration, one of their jailers appeared, as if the world wanted to see him try to convince their captors to release them. The woman bore a tray of food that looked as appetizing as the mysterious substance on the dungeon floor. Eliana could smell it, even over the other dungeon smells; a scent like laundry that had gone too long without washing. How food could smell like moldy cloth, Eliana didn’t want to know.

Eliana stepped back, gesturing to Thaddeus that he should get first pick of the tray’s contents. As far as chivalrous gestures went, it wasn’t the most impressive, as half the reason Eliana stepped away was a vain attempt to avoid that laundry-food smell. Her attempt failed, and she covered up her need to gag with a fake cough that sounded even ruder.

Thaddeus performed far better, taking the food from the jailer with a show of gratitude that somehow appeared genuine. Placing it on a rotted pile of what might have been straw with more care than it deserved, he said, “Thank you for the meal, ma’am. You couldn’t imagine the journey we’ve been on.”

The jailer squinted at Eliana and said, “I know enough to know you and were trespassing through Lord Yanbrook’s lands. You, miss, look kinda like the girl on the latest wanted poster, same red hair and pretty blue eyes, though she smiled in her picture, and you're too stocky. You’ve got twice the freckles, but I don’t know...”

“That might be my sister. She was a bad seed.” Eliana was an only child.

“Did you say Lord Yanbrook?” Thaddeus gaped at the jailer, though Eliana sensed his surprise was an act. When the jailer remained silent, he said, “We thought this was Lady Zalvern’s land. We never would have tried sneaking across Lord Yanbrook’s estate. I wouldn’t dream of such an affront to Lord Yanbrook’s dignity, not when I hold his opinions in such high esteem. It’s only the most clueless in the kingdom who dismiss him as a contrarian blowhard. He _should_ be more of a leader than he’s allowed. The King and Queen are complete nitwits in comparison.”

“Which opinions do you mean?” said the jailer.

“The smart ones.”

“The _true_ ones,” Eliana said, taking a risk and contributing to the conversation despite her lack of certainty.

“It’s awkward to admit, but we’re from the capital, you see, and they’re not too fond of Lord Yanbrook up there. Dreadful nitwits, all of them. The map we stole from the castle had the entirely wrong directions, or we would have seen where we were going.” In a perfect imitation of outrage, Thaddeus stomped his foot, right into the dungeon muck.

“They mislabeled the map so nobody well-meaning could find Lord Yanbrook. The very map that’s supposed to guide the citizens of this crumbling nation is being used to further its moral destruction.” Thaddeus had transformed from a reasonable person to a firestorm of absurdity. It was just a map--and one that didn’t exist.

Honestly, nobody with a working mind would believe Thaddeus’s outrage; it was too ridiculous. Lord Yanbrook thrived on ridiculousness.

Of course, so did a local celebrity at Eliana’s favorite tavern. Remembering the topic of a recent mocking speech that Lord Yanbrook would undoubtedly have taken far too seriously, she declared, “They could ruin the nobility’s rights to trade if they keep it up. The unfair taxes alone are enough reason for a revolution. They spend so much training their knights and put a cap on local fighting forces? Why, unless they know their hold on power is illegitimate and weak?” The fire in her own voice took Eliana by surprise.

The jailer leaned against the cell door, which she’d left open. “You’re the most sensible prisoners we’ve had in months.”

“You can’t keep reason caged forever. The truth must get out. If you leave us in here forever, what will Lord Yanbrook think? Trapping his supporters? It’ll be like you’re a mere lackey of the Crown when you’re supposed to be Lord Yanbrook’s loyal servant. You are his loyal servant, aren’t you?” Thaddeus stomped his foot again, causing an emphatic splash.

Eliana declared, “Every second you hesitate is a second your _loyalty_ hesitates. Do you want a reputation for hesitant loyalty? Doubt is the dungeon muck of the soul. Do you have a doubtful soul, ma’am? Lord Yanbrook shouldn’t trust someone so weak with guard duty, should he? Are you weak?” Energized by nonsense or not, she resisted stomping her foot. There was enough dungeon muck splatter everywhere to make their point.

“You’ll spread Lord Yanbrook’s word, won’t you?” The jailer pushed the cell door open, bobbing her head, the very personification of zealotry.

Thaddeus’s eyes glittered as he took Eliana’s hand. Turning his gaze on the jailer, he said, “Oh, the Crown will know exactly what kind of character Lord Yanbrook has, I can assure you. They’ll have to listen before long.”

“The exit is to the right and up the first flight of stairs. Your sword, sheath and belt are in the stairwell. They weren’t worth much so nobody protected them. We have magic. The truth will shine free. We left you some of your coin. There was little enough of that we didn’t guard that closely, either.”

“As free as my spirit,” said Eliana, who had no time to object to the slight against her shoddily-crafted sword as Thaddeus pulled her out of the cell.

Hand in hand, they raced for freedom, stopping to pick up Eliana’s sword along the way. Badly made or not, it could, after all, stab people.

They didn’t stop racing until they’d burned all the nonsense from their bodies. Eliana wanted to get clear of Lord Yanbrook’s territory as quickly as possible, and Thaddeus was in perfect agreement. 

Lord Yanbrook’s lands, however, did not agree with their desire to leave. Sharp, spiky plants covered the most covert paths, which were no doubt infrequently used because they scratched travelers to bits.

When Eliana and Thaddeus reached a creek just outside one of Lord Yanbrook’s property borders, which was marked by a low gilded fence, they were still holding hands. In addition to the clinging muck from the dungeon cell, they were covered in bits of leaves, with bloody scratches to add some color. Those _were_ prettier than the dungeon dirt.

“We should wash,” Eliana said. “Our clothes are more dirt than fabric.” She missed proper armor. And having a horse to ride.

“I’m more bloody monster than human being,” said Thaddeus, who was covered in an impossible number of scratches even for the path they’d taken. Somehow, there were yet more underneath his shirt, which should have provided protection.

As Eliana removed her clothes to get in the water, she noticed that she’d escaped the level of injuries Thaddeus had incurred, though she’d gotten more dungeon muck everywhere. Dirt could kill more messily than a sword, and she hoped the spells the mages had cast on them both would keep out the worst of what was in it.

“Do I have something on my face?” Thaddeus had stripped himself of his flimsy garments, as well as his glasses. Eliana almost wished he could keep the glasses on in the water; they were distinguished.

Eliana, now entirely unclothed, wasn’t looking at Thaddeus’s face. “You have something on your everywhere. Get in the water.”

Thaddeus followed Eliana into the waist-height water. For the first few minutes, they concentrated on washing off the dungeon muck as best they could, only to be interrupted when Thaddeus slipped and fell beneath the surface. Eliana grabbed him, righting him before he could drown and waste their absurd escape. He thrashed; Eliana maintained her grip, waiting until he realized he could breathe. When Thaddeus calmed down, Eliana didn’t let go as planned.

“I’m bleeding on you,” said Thaddeus.

“It’s fine. Magic protects me from any health risks.”

“Isn’t bleeding rude?”

“That depends on the situation.”

“And how is it in _this_ situation?” Thaddeus’s voice lowered, and made no move to escape Eliana’s grip. He rubbed up against her, and Eliana felt his growing arousal.

“Delicious.” Eliana licked at a cut on Thaddeus’s cheek, savoring the metallic tang of his blood and the simple physical closeness. She could almost admit to herself how long she’d wanted to do something like that. Now that they were outside in the open air, she couldn’t blame the environment for her thoughts. She waited not a second longer to kiss Thaddeus, who returned the gesture with energy to rival their run from the dungeon.

Physical intimacy at this time and location was not, strictly speaking, a smart idea, but they both needed to burn off the energy flowing through them. Eliana wanted to celebrate their escape and the simple fact they hadn’t died.

Their escape had been full of nonsense, but, risky location aside, this union would be far from absurd.


End file.
